Female-Fists-of-Fury Friday

Holy hell, what a freaking weekend. Here's what happened...

Friday- Since we got Georgia I'm on the mailing list for the SPCA so I occasionally get emails about fundraising events. One that I really wanted to attend was called "Wine & Wag" in which people bring their dogs and while they nosh on biscuits and treats, we humans get to sample beer, wine, and little hors d'ouerves (sp?).

However, due to the crap-tastic weather we've been having it was rescheduled. They also mentioned that another event called "The Yappy Hour" was taking place at a wine shop in historic Ellicott City, where it would the same sort of thing. Because I was unable to make it to the Wine & Wag (b/c of conflicting schedules) I figured I'd head out for the Yappy Hour.

Things were going pretty smoothly. Though Georgia was still pretty hesitant around all the other dogs, she WAS showing interest. But one dog was paying a little bit too much attention to her, at least in Georgia's mind. It was this little puggle (ironically, the same dog we had originally been looking for) that, when it realized Georgia wasn't going to play with him began loudly barking at her. Georgia, usually timid and shy about barkers, tried to maneuver away from it but when she couldn't she started barking back. (And not only barking, but showing her teeth) I was trying to casually sip my latest wine taste and suddenly had to scoop her up to calm her down.

When things settled I plopped her back down and she rewarded my efforts by taking a nice big dump right by the micro brews. I suddenly panicked, realizing we hadn't remember to bring any plastic bags. Thankfully someone took pity on us, the amateur dog-owners, and handed over a bag to pick up her poop. It was a little hard to regain the moment of sophistication when one hand is holding a dry red and the other a wet brown...

After that we were due to meet up with our friends back at our place, where the drinking continued. This went from destination to destination, till finally, at the end of the night, we came back to the house to finish out the night. The two other girls decided to go for a cigarette run and suggested I come along, with the dog.

As we made our way to the nearest 7-11, I waited outside with Georgia, trying like hell not to stumble and give away my current state. The girls came back out and muttered something about getting in a fight. Before I had the chance to ask them what they meant, this group of young 20-somethings poked their heads, one of them shouting insults at us. One of the girls with us reciprocated, while me and the other tried to pull her along. They explained that one of the 20-something college girls was being disrespectful to the cashier and our friend, acknowledging this, rightfully decided to stand up for the guy. When the college girl made it known she didn't appreciate the comment to her, words were exchanged. After retelling the story, they realized they forgot the cigarettes and went back in, where the other girls finally emerged and began apologizing to me about their friend. Being drunk, and terrified of confrontation, I excused them and told them to just go. As they made their way to the corner I was rejoined by MY girls, who couldn't resist messing with these little girls one more time, smacking the one biotch's butt and then tore off, leaving the other group to hold back their friend who wanted nothing more than to get her hands on our friend.

As we walked back, we started started falling apart laughing, while I kept muttering "oh my God, oh my God,". It was the closest I have ever been to a girl-girl fight since I was a little kid. I was amazed at the gumption of my companions, and slightly jealous as well. I tried to convince myself it was because of the dog that I didn't join their cause, but I think we all knew the truth. When we got back to the boys and we began explaining the story, the girls high-fived proudly.

The truth is, I've always wondered, if the shit REALLY hit the fan, would I do anything? If words were no longer an option, and someone was trying to attack a friend, would I have the balls to drop everything (including *gasp*, manners!) and join in for a good ol' fight? I'm a bit disappointed in myself. I mean, I could have at least been like, "that's right bitches! You're gonna take your medicine!" Guys always talk about getting and giving ass whoopings...maybe that's not a terrible thing for a girl to experience either (from another girl). Oh well, guess I'll have to test my female fists of fury another time...unless I happen to have the dog with me again..

Ok, so that was part one of my weird-ass weekend. Tomorrow- we skip hungover Saturday conclude with Sunday...

Road Rage

I freaking love road trips. I think I tend to like the trip even more than the destination (but it's a nice bonus when the place is awesome too). I love seeing the other places people live, wondering what they do for a living, where they for a vacation, etc. Usually all we need for a good road trip is good music, plenty of things to look at, and a nice ratio of talking to silence. And actually, sometimes a good fight makes the time go by fast.

I hadn't been on a road trip in a while, so when we found out we had an excuse I was pretty excited. When the day (or night I should say) came we packed up the car and stopped at our usual gas station for fuel and our road-trip necessity snacks- pizza-pretzel Combos, something chocolatey, something fruity, energy drinks for Joe and water for me. Finally, we were off.

When we started, we were good: music was as easy-going as the conversation as we passed all our landmarks. Road trips for us operate very much like any other mission- Joe is the driver, responsible for getting us there, knowing when to get gas, take break, and what music is played. My role as co-pilot is to simply keep him comfortable and awake (and occasionally pass him food or drink). We both take our jobs seriously and I have gotten remarkably good at being able to gauge when to start a conversation and when things ought to be quiet. Since we got such a late start, and Joe already mentioned he was tired before we even left the gas station, I knew that I'd have to do some talking every once in a while just to keep him from nodding off.

So when we came upon an especially boring view, I found myself bringing up simple topics to talk about (you know, the kind that require some thinking but have a small answer). But since he was showing signs of grumpitude, I figured I'd answer my own question...merely to keep the car from being silent, and therefore, easy to fall asleep.

We passed a large back-up of cars and when they were out of view I remembered a similar time when Joe and I were driving back somewhere and on the other side of the highway was such a terrible accident that the back-up damage extended for miles and miles. And then I wondered something aloud...

"I wonder what people do when their cars are all backed up like that."

"What do you mean?," Joe said abruptly.

"Well," I continued, "what do you suppose people do when they are stuck in such a terrible traffic jam for hours and hours?"

"They stay in their car," Joe said defiantly.

"No way," I said. "People can't stay in their cars for hours upon hours. What if it's cold and they know there's no chance they are gonna get their car out for a while? They can't just stay there."

"What are you talking about, hun, it's ILLEGAL to abandon your car," he said.

I should have dropped it then and there. But for some reason, I felt like he was baiting me, and honestly, I felt like taking him on. I knew it was going to be a pointless debate (or as I call it when Joe gets like that, "Mental Chess") since he wasn't going to relent his point without taking me around first.
I held my own, I think. I came up with some valid points, even trying to knock his theories out with scenarios of my own. But in the end, as we were practically yelling our sides over the other, I realized I was getting more annoyed than passionate about my point. I suddenly fell silent.

"You're just being a grouch," he said, again trying to bait me, but this time trying to make me forget what we were arguing about. Still I was silent.

"You're not allowed to be a grouch"

Silent.

"That's it, I'm dropping you off at that scary Bates' Motel looking thing in Frackville."

Silent some more. He waited a few minutes and then spoke back up.

"I just don't understand what the people trying to get by would do if you left your car," he said, trying to flush out the last of my arguments.

"You're just trying to have the last word, so I'm gonna be the adult and let you have it," I said simply. This actually led to us both trying to let the other have the last word, until we were both silent for a little while. Finally, as I continued to play my alphabet car game (something Joe hates) and spotted a letter I had been waiting for, Joe joined in helping me find other letters. Then we knew the fight was over.

Happily, as I looked at the clock, the fight had altogether eaten up almost an hour. We drove the rest of the way, with no incident. I later told Joe I think he purposely picked that fight.

"How could I have? YOU asked the question," he said. But I knew that he was glad for it. Not only did it help pass the time, but it helped chase away any fatigue he was feeling. Plus, I'm a big believer in fighting helping a relationship (not so much that you are screaming at the person everyday). Every now and then people need to sharpen their claws and doing it on each other not only opens communication, it really helps to de-stress.

As I'm typing this I am lounging on a bed at Joe's parents house in upstate NY. Sadly, we are already going to have to leave tomorrow, but it's been a nice visit. His mom and dad are awesome, and it's such a different atmosphere up here. But I am actually looking forward to the drive back. At least we'll be leaving a bit earlier, so we can see more sights, we'll be less tired...and JOE won't be such a grouch. Guess that's the nice thing about having a blog...I ALWAYS get the last word, lol.